


Audaces Fortuna Iuvat

by CGKrows



Series: The Marvel OC Fest, Apparently [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aliens, BAMF Natasha Romanov, BAMF Pepper Potts, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Bucky is a tits man, Canon-Typical Violence, Cats, Clairvoyance, Comfort Food, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Avengers, Extremis Pepper Potts, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Height Differences, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Introversion, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kink Negotiation, Knives, Marijuana, Memes, Multi, Nipple Play, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Praise Kink, Precious Peter Parker, Prophetic Visions, Sam Wilson is So Done, Size Kink, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Strangers to Lovers, Sweaters, Tactile Telekinesis, Tea, Telekinesis, Telepathic Wanda Maximoff, Terrorists, The Third Eye is All Knowing and Possibly a Cosmic Horror God, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark has ADHD, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Villains, Vision (Marvel) Cooks, Visions, Voice Kink, Who knows when Thor and Bruce show up, Zombies, because i don't, but it ended the way it should have and not like the trainwreck it was, much fire very scary wow, she is very small and the boys are very tall, the usual song and dance tbh, where are they all coming from Bucky??? Where???, which causes problems as much as fixes them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-07-27 14:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20047606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CGKrows/pseuds/CGKrows
Summary: In which none of the Avengers really knew there was somebody living on the thirteenth floor of the Tower until Steve found her drinking tea at the dining table in the common room. It also didn't help that she is something of a clairvoyant, who nearly spat said tea all over the floor upon seeing a snatch of Steve's future... Which apparently determined he'd be slow fucking her into oblivion while his best friend made a necklace of hickeys around her throat on a California King at some point.Tony, as her friend and sorta-boss who knew her since defeating the Mandarin, thinks it's hilarious that her possibly-inevitable future results in such an encounter. Pepper, as her friend and actual boss, offers a few sympathies before asking for her professional opinion on the stock market. And her? She just wants to go back to being generally ignored on the thirteenth floor, where she's not bombarded with visions of peoples' lives or worrying about whether anyone saw the floating kettle pour tea into her monster-sized mug.





	1. The Introverted Fortune Teller in the Metaphorical Basement

**Author's Note:**

> The title is Latin, and it translates to "Fortune Favors the Bold." And this story? I have no idea what I'm doing. It honestly exists as something of a humorous joke, an exploration of asociality characterization, some very indulgent smut, and lots of Avengers shenanigans. There's a reference to the fact almost all building contractors (in the US) omit the use of a thirteenth floor due to superstitions. Idk, it's a useful plot device and I personally think Tony wouldn't give a shit as he's an atheist. Enjoy it if you can?

"_Hobgoblin, you gotta' leave the lair._"

A young woman, hunched heavily over her laptop, craned her neck up to the ceiling and growled. If her teeth were bared, it was because she knew Friday had cameras in questionable places and Tony Stark could see the feeds. She was cozy in her oversized grandma sweater, colored like the inside of a trash can with a horribly-rendered cat face on the front. Her feet were covered in overly fuzzy socks. The couch beneath the young woman's ass was upholstered, mint green, and so old the cushions were insanely squishy instead of stiff. An oak coffee table nearby had a huge mug of tea―two spoons of sugar, a splash of 1% milk―within reach sitting atop an Iron Man-themed coaster. Somewhere in the living area, a very skinny sphynx cat attempted to soak up some sun coming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the New York cityscape. Strains of Sampha filled the room with soft ambient tunes. It was, quite honestly, a perfect setting. The idea of being forced to vacate such a comfortable, quiet, calming, isolated space was not something she at all agreed with. Thus the somewhat silly but understandable growling.

"Are you judging me?" she questioned, albeit pointedly. There was no other way to address Stark, or he'd verbally steamroll into getting his way. "You, who'll lock himself up in his lab and not emerge until maybe seven days have passed or your coffee supply runs dry? _ Really?_"

"_At least I have the team constantly bothering me there. I have people actively annoying me, Dobby. Total worst. You don't, unless Pepper or my beautiful self come knocking. So get out, go outside. Eat a burger, skydive, treat yourself to a professional mani-pedi_..."

She could almost visualize the man's mannerisms as he spoke, the way he'd gesticulate his arms, cant his head about, almost dismissively finish talking by spitting out short sentences and tinker with some random object close at hand.

"Nope," she immediately dismissed, turning her head away. Her fingers flew across her keyboard, barely pausing as she continued to speak. "I have scheduling to organize, paperwork, a video call with Pepper later tonight. Unlike your stupid rich superhero ass, I must exchange labor for viable currency."

There was suddenly violent static on his side, like he threw his fidget item of choice out of sheer annoyance and hit one of his suits. "_Jesus Christ, Julie, just leave your floor! I pay out the checks you know! Where's the respect?_"

"Last time I checked, Pepper was the one who hired me. Your last name may be part of the company title, but she's CEO. You're just the awkward nerdy boyfriend with a trust fund, Tony. Go back to being the humongous nerd you are and leave me in the basement."

"_Hobgoblin_," he groused, almost accusing.

Julie grumbled like her hairless cat, making inhuman noises by torturing her vocal cords to further encourage their bizarre running joke. Being as asocial as she was, eccentric behavior wasn't too far out of the ballpark. That, and she thought it was fucking hilarious in a backhanded sort of way. She blamed Tony for nurturing her peculiarities by being just as shamelessly weird.

"Robot slut," she shot back.

There was a very Victorian-lady scoff coming out of the speakers, which didn't really go well with her soulful Sampha music. "_How about this, Jules. You, me, the common room of the main Avengers floor. Red's off somewhere in Bed-Stuy with Legolas, Birdbrain's visiting kid-shaped gremlins in Harlem, Cap's making sweet violence with some punching bags, and anybody else from the team is generally occupied. I'll order your usual from that Japanese place you love. A mountain of sushi shit. You could even bring your fleshy, hairless minion."_

"You know Azog doesn't like elevators." Said cat's tail twitched at the sound of its name, but otherwise ignored the world at large.

Tony wasn't about to give up. "_I'll let you smog up the whole room. Hell, I want a few puffs._"

"Pepper explicitly told me not to do that anywhere outside of my floor. Remember when we got high last July and nearly blew up your lab couch? Her words are law, T-bone."

"_Extra taiyaki. Chocolate-filled,_" he declared.

The man knew her weaknesses, damn him. "Three of them."

"_T__wo._"

"Three, because you love them as much as I do. You'll fuckin' steal one, I know your dumb as shit tricks too well."

"_I'll order my own!_" he just about whined, _ "Two!_"

"Three or no deal, you spoiled bitch."

"_Fine! Shit, Dobby, you'll eat me out of Tower and home._"

The young woman smiled minutely in victory and at his horrible quip, while internally she loathed the thought of climbing into the elevator and going up toward the upper floors. God, she really didn't like to deal with people.

Which made reasonable sense. Contrary to her outward appearance—flaunting an overall 90's introvert aesthetic, big metal-framed glasses, a job position as a work-from-home personal assistant to the all-mighty CEO of Stark Industries and her genius boy toy―Julie was actually an Enhanced person. She didn't have any of the usual physical indications, such as unaverage muscle mass or purple eyes or a crazy metal super suit. Nope, she was one of those low-key Enhanced people. Looked perfectly normal, but was actually bonkers unusual. Was born with it too, unlike the Avengers. And her abilities?

Well... The young woman was something of a clairvoyant. If she made eye-contact with somebody, she could see their entire lives._ Past-present-future_. Sometimes various possibilities of their futures, if they were unpredictable individuals or people with highly unpredictable occupations. Included in that package was something of a sixth sense, warning her of events within the near-future. Like if someone was about to walk into the room, or Tony was about to annoy her through the Tower speakers. Now and again she'd get prophetic visions, like when some really big event was slated to happen. Or a semi-prophetic one, like Tony deciding to build a murder robot that could have very well destroyed Earth if the Avengers hadn't done their heroic jobs when Sokovia briefly existed as a floating city. These abilities were very much expected from clairvoyants. But Julie could also move shit with her brain, like it wasn't too big of a deal. Smash random stuff to dust, halt projectiles in mid-air then send them back from whence they came, blah blah blah. Which was not part of the whole clairvoyant package, and instead existing as something of an add-on that the young woman could do.

And honestly? Ever since Scarlet Witch came onto the scene, it made Julie feel like some kind of sideshow. Maybe she was the reincarnation of Kassandra from Greek mythology and she wasn't so much a sideshow as an oracle nobody took seriously. Pythia was the loved and feared one, being the Oracle of Delphi. Who the hell fucking knew what she was.

Either way, it made Julie extremely introverted. Crowds were the worst possible thing in all of the goddamn universe, because the onslaught of visions could at times be insanely overwhelming. If she hung out with certain people long enough, she'd have visions specifically about those people. And, Julie would keep having to see their lives play out whenever she met their eyes. Seeing all that shit so much gave her a horrible cocktail of anxiety and depression through a good part of her early life before she figured out how to control it. Which inevitably lead to her never meeting anyone's gaze for the sake of maintaining decent metal health, which insulted those persons, which left her ever more asocial. The only people she really liked being around were usually people who worked as first responders or bartenders. Their futures were too unpredictable to give her a very clear view of their future. Just curious but interesting snatches of their lives, nothing set in stone. Internet friends were nice, because a computer wasn't a living organism with eyes. Jarvis, when he still existed, had been a close friend. Friday was shaping up to be another great AI of similar caliber. Cats were fantastic anomalies, because they just didn't have a future. Part of Julie felt like the whole "felines have nine lives" thing might be true, because she sure as hell never saw anything. Clearly the universe either fucked up when it created cats or cats just existed on another plane of existence. The young woman was fine with either possibility.

Marijuana really helped curb her anxiety and micromanage the clairvoyance. She discovered this back when she was in high school, and may have participated in illegally buying it for a few years until it became legal for medical use in New York. Julie took up vaping the moment cannabis vapes were reasonably priced too, because it was easier on the lungs and easier to discreetly use. By the time she graduated and started college, the young woman finally mastered her powers. She never used her Carrie-brand mind powers outside of her home, because she really didn't want to end up on _ Ripley's Believe It or Not_. Everything was generally fine, where all that mattered was her home, work, and safely maneuvering through crowds in short spurts. 

But hey, her abilities were great when she worked as a secretary. Julie could anticipate her boss' every need to an eerie degree, effortlessly manage their schedules, process paperwork that would inevitably be needed within three to five days. She'd been a secretary for five people, all of whom gave her glowing references. It'd been insane when she got hired by Pepper Potts back in 2013, because her clairvoyance actually hadn't been able to predict it.

Thus her continued employ as the personal assistant of Stark Industries' CEO. The woman was one of those people who couldn't be properly predicted, mostly thanks to the fact her long-term boyfriend Tony Stark was apparently chaos incarnate to Julie's clairvoyance. His life could not be read, because both his personality and heroic occupation made him impossible to read. Julie only rarely got a semi-prophetic vision involving him, and_ fucking goddamn _ was it awesome. Why would she ever want to leave? It also helped that they weren't phased by her Enhanced abilities. Really, the two of them were her best friends despite the fact they were also the people paying her money every month.

Yet on days like this, when Tony was trying to make her a more sociable person... did she actually like the asshole? In the name of futomaki, California rolls, sake nigiri, yakisoba, and three chocolate-filled taiyaki, he very obviously was. Who else would indulge her impressive appetite and share in it at the same time? Seeing into the past-present-future was hungry business.

Grabbing her tea mug and placing the laptop on the coffee table, Julie idly itched behind her ear. Was she presentable? Glancing down, she realized pants would be needed. Boy shorts covered in dancing pikachus were not appropriate for wandering around in public spaces. Not that Tony would be phased (the man himself was known to show up in his boxers and Iron Man gauntlets when half-asleep), but she had some dignity. Upon scrounging up and donning a pair of black sweatpants, the young woman shuffled her way toward the elevator. Her tea mug was clamped between her hands.

"Friday, take me away."

Doors closing, it didn't take long for Julie to reach the main Avengers floor. The elevators were extremely fast. She was among the business floors near the bottom like the basement hobgoblin she was. The Avengers floors were more towards the top, taking up floors 45 to 58. Tony's penthouse was at the top, floor 59. The common room was floor 52. Idly, she sipped at her mug before Friday stopped at her destination.

"_Common room_," Friday announced, the elevator doors opening to present the spacious world beyond it.

Walking out, the young woman took it all in. Julie’d never been to this floor, seeing as she was hard-put to break her introverted habits even when kept in the safe bubble that was the Avengers Tower. It was a nice common area with plenty of seating. Big couches and loveseats, wide coffee table. The rag carpet was nice under her fuzzy feet. The overall layout was modern but not Tony's excessive postmodern. Clearly Pepper had a hand in designing the place, what with the warm color palette and tasteful decor. An over-the-top widescreen TV was mounted on one wall, with furniture placed below it containing a plethora of DVDs and what looked to be three different video game consoles. A few framed pictures of the team also graced the walls, some of them formal and the rest very domestic. They documented the history of the Avengers, from the initial seven members post-Chitauri Invasion to a charming picture of the many superheroes together at what looked to be a nowhere dive bar._ Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, Falcon, War Machine, Black Panther, Winter Soldier, Spider-Man... no Thor or Banner. Guess this was taken post-Zemo_.

Though, wasn't Black Panther technically just an ally of the Avengers? And wasn't Spider-Man under the drinking age? Julie couldn't keep it all straight; whenever Tony went on a team roster rant, she decidedly blocked it out. There was an impressive kitchen with an industrial-grade fridge, counter space with tasteful bar stools tucked away. The iconic floor-to-ceiling windows were even more expansive on the main Avengers floor, and there was a balcony. Just below was the Quinjet landing pad, connected to the balcony for easy access. There was also a hallway which lead away from the common room to what Julie assumed to be the Avengers' briefing room, and not far from the kitchen space was a lengthy dining table.

The young woman plunked herself down at the table, because where else were she and Tony going to consume their Japanese take out? Plus, the matching chairs had cushions. Taking another gulp of tea, she pulled out her StarkPhone to shoot a text to the resident engineer.

**Yo im on the common floor or w/e, where u at?**

Barely three seconds passed before a response popped up.

** _Finishing up my next robot sex toy, obv. Foods on its way._ **

She doubted he was making a mechanized dildo. He just wanted to get her back for the robot slut comment.

**I thought u wanted to hang, wtf.**

** _but my thing._ **

**U can survive. Stop fckin around.**

Unfortunately, Julie didn't get an answer. She sighed, the anxiety-ridden part of her demanding she go back to her smooshy couch and stay there for another month. People were stupid and fickle and apparently don't really need you around. Why hang around? The part that was desperate for social contact and attention, however, won the battle. It wasn't a very large part of her, but it did have an insatiable hunger. And her friends list? It was limited to three people: Tony, Pepper, and her cat Azog. So Julie stayed put, mindlessly checking her social media in hopes of wasting enough time for the food to arrive. _ No news, no memes, nothing. _ She briefly browsed Reddit, clicking on a few posts but otherwise not finding any enjoyment. _ Stale shit. _ She checked her Stock Market app the longest, engaging with something work-related. _ Following the patterns as I anticipated. Our value went up. Guess that new StarkPad model really got the investors hotted up. Pepper must be pretty content. Hope she's not going nuts dealing with the board_.

The waiting was driving her nuts though, in the end. Her anxiousness about being in a foreign public space was ramping up higher and higher the longer she sat at the dining table. Tapping into her sixth sense a little, she checked to see whether the food would arrive within the next ten minutes. The feeling of static buzzed around in the back of her head for a moment before her metaphorical third eye bluntly declared _ nope. _She huffed and grumbled, rolling her shoulders agitatedly before swiping through her phone screens to find the game apps. Julie low-key was obsessed with app gaming, mostly because it was readily accessible and most of them were generally easy to play. Not to say she couldn't whoop somebody's ass at Call of Duty, but she really enjoyed fighting cartoon monsters or tapping her way to a feel-good pixelated victory. It was also easy to get absorbed in it, distracted.

Halfway through defeating level 78 of Candy Crush, her sixth sense alerted her. _ Somebody will be walking out of that elevator in less than a minute, _said the third eye before its eyelid drooped shut.

Normally, Julie would inquire further. Who would be the somebody? But in that moment, she had just matched up the last row of blue candy. The screen was alight with the completion screen. Julie made a happy hum noise, and reached for her tea. The fact somebody was going to appear just made her think about Tony and what she'd snark at him the moment he walked onto the scene.

The elevator doors opened, Friday announcing the destination to whomever just exited.

"You took your time, Tony. You're damn lucky I checked how soon the food's getting here because-"

She looked up to continue, sipping her tea, meeting unknown blue eyes―

―_Heated skin, too hot, muscles coiled tight. Flexing and contracting, the lovely line of a thick neck, broad shoulders, nape dusted with golden hairs, a hand digging into the pale flesh. The nails are painted, blue chrome with a high polish. Slightly chipped. The adonis' body tapers to a slim waist, thick thighs. Tanned legs wrap around and hook near his sculpted ass, the toes curling. They're painted to match the fingernails. Sounds of skin sliding against skin, panting. Soft whimpers, quieted moans. Two people pressed chest to chest, slow grinding, rolling hips, a delicious drag and an equally bold push. Stuttering breaths. Another hand curls around a soft belly, possessive. Two dark heads, one thrown back and the other lowered. Plush lips ghost across sensitive planes, pull apart, bite. Small nips, sparks of heat. The soothing lap of a tongue, strands of hair trailing after. Dark spots along a tanned throat, those lips latching on nearby to complete the array. A chilling touch tracing downwards with intention, glimmering in the low light. Three pressed close on a bed. Sensual, sexual, sharing in pleasure long awaited_―

―and promptly choked on her drink like a complete idiot. Coughs shook her body, the mug tipped in her wavering grip, tea sloshed wildly inside and spilled over onto the carpet. Julie hastily broke eye contact, her mind reeling madly. 

She sits her mug on the table a bit too harshly as she attempts to breathe without sucking in more tea.

Footsteps close in quickly before a voice speaks with concern. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

She chokes another cough, patting at her clothes in search of wet spots, making sure not to stare into the man's eyes when she aims her head in his direction. "Oh totally. Yup, nothing wrong here. I'm fine, I've long since accepted this fate," Julie says caustically, hoarse. "Fucking just gonna' die from choking and haunt this damn place."

"Wrong pipe?" he says amusedly, an eyebrow raised.

"Yep, absolutely," she agrees carelessly. Julie can't really unsee his very attractive naked body from that snippet of a vision, especially with the way his tight, sweat-soaked shirt clings to him now. She can see his pecs, abs, the individual shoulder muscles, his nipples. Nothing is hidden and it doesn't help her to focus. _ Is this Captain America?! _

"You're definitely a friend of Tony's." He moves to the kitchen, grabbing a random towel, "Though I wasn't aware he knew anybody younger than forty but older than sixteen."

Because she's still seeing after-images of nude super men and her blue chrome nails digging into them, the young woman struggles to formulate a coherent sentence. _ New vision, who dis? _

Thankfully, the genius himself takes that moment to appear. He strides out of the elevator with all his cocky flair, though he's dressed in faded jeans, a rock shirt, and covered in oil. There's a big patch of black on his cheek in the shape of Lake Tahoe. Upon seeing Julie and maybe-Captain America, he curses.

"Fuck, Steve!" he cries, "Why couldn't you keep bullying the punching bags downstairs for another three hours? Dobby, you there?"

Her friend's voice drags her back from the depths of her recent vision. "Huh? Tony?"

"Nope. The hobgoblin's out. Dammit, Cap, you broke my PA."

"What?"

Yep, she just caught a snatch of Captain America's future. Lovely. At Tony's comment, Julie makes affronted noises. "I'm not broken."

"Oh, there you are. Clearly I'm not to be trusted, Dobby, because Mr. America decided to crash our would-be food party."

"No, it's fine," she says, though a little awkward. Tony looks sort of upset at the sight. He hates it when she gets all awkward. She’s pointedly not looking in the Captain’s direction, desperate to disengage from the situation.

"Nope. It's not. C'mon, off to my floor. Don't you dare go crawling back to your lair."

"But I need more tea?" Julie attempts to reason. In reality, she wants to seek solace in the grouchy companionship of Azog.

"I got that garbage in my kitchen cabinets, up you go. I'll be right up; I gotta' talk to Cap here."

The genius hauls her out of her seat at the table, his free hand grabbing her monster-size mug. The tea is basically gone, nothing but a pathetic murky puddle at the bottom. He herds her like an overly jittery border collie, while Steve watches in utter confusion. Once Julie is in the elevator and sent off towards the top of the Tower, Tony wheels around to face the blonde.

"Who was that?" Steve asks.

"The tower hobgoblin Julie, also known as mine but mostly Pepper's personal assistant. She lives in the Tower, got her own floor. Did you really have to come up here after finishing up in the training room? Seriously!"

"When do you have a personal assistant?" Steve questions, incredulous. "I thought you haven't had a personal assistant since the whole thing with Natasha years ago."

Tony shrugged. "Pepper hired her in 2013; she needed the support after the Extremis mess. Best gut-decision hire Pep's ever made, I think. But seriously, you startled the hobgoblin. Not fucking cool, Stars and Stripes."

"I-I just walked out of the elevator. She choked on her tea," Steve says, gesturing to the tea stain in the carpet whilst holding the towel meant to sop it all up. "I don't understand."

"Julie's very anti-people. Desperately lonely, but doesn't really like being around people. Pep and I've been trying to work on that with her, but it's a process. Super skittish, our resident basement dweller."

"Basement?" Steve says loudly, disbelieving.

The genius rolls his eyes dramatically, clearly already done with the current conversation. "Not the actual basement, Christ. She lives on the thirteenth floor, right between the SI floors and the Avengers floors."

Rogers' eyes narrow. "Don't skyscrapers never have a thirteenth floor? The Empire State doesn't have one."

Tony waves him off dismissively. "Paranoid bullshit. The Tower's got a thirteenth floor, I just never advertised it. Initially I kept it as a backup space I could install a future hidden lab or something, but then I realized the safest place to hide my introverted PA was on a nonexistent level. She's kinda special, so she needs the extra security."

Because Steve is no fool, he immediately understands the implications. "She's Enhanced," he states.

"Yep. I won't tell you what her powers are, because that's her shit to blab about to who she wants, but said powers are very dangerous if any of our enemies realized she had them."

"Her introversion kinda works for her then," the blonde remarks, his expression a little sad. The genius could feel the beginnings of bleeding-heart sympathy coming off of the super soldier in increasing waves.

"Not really? Maybe?" Tony poses skeptically, waving his hand about to imply his uncertainty as he shuffles his shoulders. "She could probably beat us all to shit if she decided to actually believe in follow-through. Well, not counting Vision. Julie'd probably let him live because he's an android that sounds like Jarvis."

Steve blinks, brows wrinkled, huffing. "Tony, I'm getting very mixed signals here. Is that dame I just met in danger or not?"

"It's... highly unlikely. But it could happen. Anyway, I just wanted you to, like, _ not _ go around and barge in on tower hobgoblins. If you don't watch yourself, she'll throw you through the wall or something because you startled her so bad."

Steve felt as though that sentence was deceptively loaded. "Are you speaking from experience?" he wonders.

"Christ fuck, _ yes_."

The pair of them couldn't help but snicker amongst themselves.

* * *

"So did I accidentally meet Captain America earlier?"

Tony lazily looked up from his messy plate of food, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead to show she sort of disturbed him from his genius mind palace. The yakisoba had somehow intermixed with the half-disintegrated futomaki on his dish, which made it look inedible and a little disgusting. It also didn't help that the genius ordered salmon roe sushi for himself, with all the pinkish red balls clumping in amongst the mesh of ingredients. What stood as the cherry atop the cake was the fact Tony was wielding both chopsticks _ and _ a fork to eat it all. A complete madman. A heathen.

"Yah," he said around a large bite that was being stuffed into his mouth with the chopsticks. "Tha's wa' Ca'sicel."

Julie grimaced. "Don't speak with your mouth full. You're like almost fifty, where's your manners?"

The man briefly imitated a chipmunk with puffy cheeks before he swallowed the huge wad of noodles forcefully. She almost wanted to choke in sympathy. "Excuse you,_ fifty? _ I am not fifty. Do you see this face? Where are the grey hairs, the heavy wrinkles? My hair is perfect."

"You have wrinkles. You use that comb-in hair color shit to hide your encroaching silver fox look. Those hands of yours have a gnarly look to them like they're gearing up for arthritis. You're also paranoid about your health, drink green mystery smoothies, and triple-locked your liquor cabinet to the point it’s display only. Tell me that's not the warning signs of an older man getting even older."

"Who are you, my mom?" he demanded petulantly.

"HA, fuck no! Talk about nightmare material, Jesus..."

"I'm not that bad. I'm a goddamn angel, Jules."

"Lies,” she shot back effortlessly. “I may only be some twenty-five something millennial with asocial tendencies, but I've seen enough lifetimes flash before my eyes to know you're a total pain in the ass," she declared, pointing at him with chopsticks.

"Shush," Tony said, "Now give me the 411. The deets. Intelligence, information, data." He even snapped his fingers twice to emphasize his snappish order.

"Why? It's not like you listened to me when I warned you about creating Ultron. What's the point of telling you about my visions when you won't even listen to the big-fucking-deal prophecies?"

"Are you still sore about that?"

"Yes, I am in fact still upset that you wouldn't listen to one of your friends when she warns you about impending doom. Because honestly? The whole Sokovia fiasco and the resulting Accords wouldn't have ever happened if you just _ listened to my prophecy and the instructions therein_."

"I listened when you warned me about the Winter Soldier," Tony said, abruptly serious.

Julie grimaced. The genius had a point. Clearly, when the next prophecy had hit, he’d learned his lesson.

"I know you too damn well, Tony. You actually love all those comic book goofballs who're on your team. There was no way I was gonna' let that camaraderie die. That, and the future wasn't looking too positive if I left it all alone," the young woman said earnestly.

“And I thank you eternally for that, from the stainless steel base of my arc reactor. Now spill!”

The young woman huffed, shifting in place. If her cheeks reddened, it was for good reason. _ God, that vision was a lot. _

Tony immediately zeroed in on her expression. “Ooh my, what do we have here? Was the vision a spicy one? Did it include any nudity? A flash of ankle, maybe some thigh?”

Julie’s entire face became a dusky tomato. “You could say that.”

“Oh ho! Definitely more than some naked thigh then. What was Cap getting up to? Did he even manage to get it up? He is about ten decades old, the poor museum display.”

“It… Well… Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Of course! Always, Dobby.”

She took a quick breath before unleashing a stream of word vomit. “IwasthefillinginareallysteamysandwichwithCaptainAmericaandwhoIthinkistheWinterSoldierandGODDAMNitwassupersuperhot.”

Tony stared. Julie knew he heard everything, he always had faster processing than the average joe. He clearly was trying to properly shape the mental image. The moment he did, he broke out into a full-bodied laugh. His plate of food almost went flying, if not for a quick flick of Julie’s fingers halting it midair.

“Oh, oh my god! A motherfucking triad! A threesome! This is gold!” Tony howls, trailing off with a cackle. “Does this mean I need to prepare for the paparazzi shit storm that would be Cap’s debut as a bi polyamorous man? Should I plan to move you in with them?”

“Ugh, shut up! No, I don’t think it’s a serious vision. Usually people with unpredictable occupations or live dangerous lives cannot be properly divined, like you and Pepper. There are only possible avenues that could play out, nothing concrete. Unless you’re trying to tell me that Captain America lives a fated existence.”

The genius stares at her with a pensive expression, grabbing his dinner out of the air absently. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Cap’s backstory is ridiculous as much as it is a perpetual tragedy. He’s consistently fought against every expectation, every encounter with impossible odds. His stubbornness is the only reason Barnes ever got out of that Hydra facility back during the War and how we have Barnes with us today. But otherwise he’s always screwed in the end. He lost Bucky for a good stint, Aunt Peggy got old, the world moved on, and he’s never really been able to catch a break from all the fighting until recently. It’s all fucked.”

Julie doesn’t like the idea of such an existence. Philosophers and writers have debated and romanticized the concept of fate for centuries. Those with determined fates, lives that can both alter the future yet never deviate, are something of a death sentence. They live in a fashion that is set in stone. Average people could, if they tried, change their futures. But those who are fated can’t fight against what the universe has decided their path should be. They live to serve a purpose, nothing more. And if Captain America were cursed with a fated life? Whoever he loves is so cursed to walk with him.

“God, Tony, I hope you’re wrong,” she says, choking down a few more bites of food out of sheer nervousness. “Fate does not guarantee happiness. It only delivers results.”

The genius was surprisingly somber for someone who was just laughing a moment ago. He nods. “Yeah. Rogers probably isn’t. Couldn’t be, or he’d have been dead the moment he hit the ice.”

Unsure how to respond to that statement, Julie was quick to change the topic. She didn’t want to lose her dinner before her video call meeting with Pepper.


	2. How to Talk to a Reclusive Gremlin Near You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is awkward. Julie is awkward. Everyone is awkward, except Bucky. He accidentally breaks her nose instead.
> 
> Tony is still laughing at the whole affair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How is this so popular?! _Y'all, you're making me blush!_ Keep up with all those great comments. Sorry if it's a little late. There are a few links in this, mostly for context. Sometimes I'm not sure if we've all collectively seen the same memes, or we all know the actual name of some touristy knick-knack we bought for fun. Enjoy?

Julie, for obvious reasons, does not wake up before six o’clock in the morning. Being something of a night owl and bonafide workaholic, the young woman is always up late talking with Pepper over a video call or using her somewhat tempermental third eye to track the fluctuations in the Stark Industries stock holdings. By the time her head hits the pillow, it is usually just shy of 12:30 am. As someone who firmly believes in getting more than eight hours of sleep to stay healthy, Julie does just that. It is also a key part of her routine in maintaining control over the visions. Less sleep meant less accuracy. What she’d attempt to divine would end up giving her more theoreticals than absolutes.

So Julie is a chronic late sleeper, and God protect the poor foolish soul who wakes her up before ten. Tall tales (read: Tony complaining to Pepper) spoke of an angry little woman with half-alive swirling hair who would throw her unsuspecting victims into walls or lock them inside their own elevators. The young woman’s boss took heed, and decided the beginning of the work day starts at noon. There was no possible way anyone would disturb her.

Unfortunately, some dumbass who accidentally discovered her existence decided to try and contact her at eight o’clock in the morning. Friday was the extremely unhappy go-between.

“_Julie, Captain Rogers requests a visit to your floor. He wishes to apologize for the encounter yesterday_.”

Some kind of alien creature groaned beneath a veritable mountain of comforters and blankets on an expensive Queen-sized bed. It was probably the most costly item on the entire floor; an extravagant luxury that was happily indulged. Some of the blankets hiding the monster on that lavish mattress were red, some were paisley-patterned, one had Tony’s face custom printed on it, and three of them were Avengers-themed. A skinny hairless feline was curled up triumphantly at the peak, its ear twitching in irritation at Friday’s voice filtering in from above. The buried beast shifted, gave a muffled huff, then subsided.

“_Julie, I’m very sorry I have to wake you up before the scheduled time, but Captain Rogers requests a visit to your floor. He wishes to apologize for the encounter yesterday_,” repeated Friday.

The beast squealed out a wordless tone of upset, the blankets fluctuating angrily. The sphynx cat fell from its perch, meowing in displeasure on the carpeted floor. A moment later, the pile of covers flew off and hit the bedroom door with a loud thump; the kinetic force hard enough to shake the door on its hinges. Julie roughly sat up, her hair a wild black crown around her head. It seemed to have a mind of its own, dancing at her temples and wiggling towards the ceiling for no discernible reason. It definitely wasn’t static electricity. The oversized T-shirt she wore read in pretty cursive: _ Outdoors? Oh no, we’re out of doors! _Her underwear was striped like a candy cane. The young woman’s face was thunderous.

“Tell Captain America to fuck off! And tell him that normal people don’t wake other people up before noon! And tell him if he tries to talk to me again, he’s just going to have to apologize twice! And that if he does somehow manage to ambush me at another time, I'm gonna stick him to the ceiling with extra-strength Gorilla Glue! So… Well, he should definitely fuck off somewhere else! And tell him I’m not interested in excuses, because he fucking woke me up before noon!” she yelled.

With a huff, she flopped back down onto the mattress, gesturing with a sharp hand. The blankets flew back over the bed, settling right back into their former positions. Azog, the skinny hairless cat, swiftly climbed back onto his rightful throne. There was silence.

But it only lasted five minutes. 

“_Captain Rogers says that he’s deeply sorry he woke you up before your scheduled alarm, but he will be unavailable for the next week due to Avengers business. He wishes to offer his apologies before he leaves on said business. He even offers to simply talk to you over the speaker, as he understands that you value your space due to your Enhanced status._”

Julie growled and rolled in her bed, but hesitated to yell. The man who was Captain America was surprisingly… considerate. A small part of her was beginning to feel some inkling of guilt at her previous words. She stewed under her mountain of fabric, indecisive.

“Tell him… Tell him that I’m already aware of the Avengers business he’s referencing, because I may or may not have been the one to alert Tony of the issue three days ago… Maybe. Also tell him I’m still very pissed at him for waking me up too early, but I long since forgave him for the encounter yesterday. Shit happens, I guess? Also _ also _ tell him that I’m kinda’ appreciative of his consideration. Maybe. God, I’m really bad at words... Ask him how he knows about the fact I’m Enhanced. If it was Tony who told him, I might need to lock that dingus in his elevator again.”

There was a long pause. “_Captain Rogers says that it was in fact Tony, but the man hadn’t revealed what your powers were. Stark had told him to ask himself. He also says that he’s curious as to how you learned of the issue currently requiring the Avengers’ attention, but he will not pry_.”

She stared blankly at her wall―which was covered in framed posters and personal photos―before answering. “Put me on speaker.”

A soft electronic chirp echoed in her room. “Well, Mr. Rogers,” she said, admittedly uncomfortable despite communicating across several floors from the comfort of her bed. “Your gosh-golly-doll-gee-whizz act must be iconic or something, because you’ve made me feel guilty in seconds for telling you off barely moments ago.”

A tinny, nervous chuckle came through over the speakers. “_I’m not too sure it’s… uh, iconic, but it’s definitely got me through some tight spots with grabby politicians_.”

Julie wasn’t surprised. “Cool. So uhm, that whole thing with the mercenaries-for-hire planning to attack refugee camps in Yemen so AIM will have extra bodies for experiments in four days time? I was kinda’ the person who found out about it.”

“_Ma’am, you don’t have to explain—_”

“Yeah, well! I’m explaining it to you now… for like, future reference or whatever,” she blustered, though it was a weak venture at sounding indignant. In reality, the only reason she was keen on telling him was that she completely wasn’t against having the ménage à trois vision come true.

So sue her, she hadn’t gotten laid since senior year of high school. That lay? An awkward virgin first time with a guy who barely lasted a minute. She saw his future and it ended with a DUI and getting in the wrong fight inside a jail cell. It hadn't been a great experience, to put it mildly. And Tony kept telling her to make more friends every time they hung out together. Did talking to Captain America through Friday count?

“_Alright_,” Steve said unsurely through the speaker.

“I’m…I’m… Well, I’m basically Pythia? Like Oracle of Delphi to the max, plus some extras.”

“_Extras? _”

“Oh, you know,” she said faux-nonchalantly. The young woman sounded closer to crying from overwhelming anxiety than calm. “I can move stuff with my mind, tear it apart molecule by molecule, warp reality, the usual package.”

“_It sounds like you and Wanda would get along like a house on fire_,” he commented wryly.

“Ha, no thanks. Putting a world-warping oracle and the embodiment of chaotic magic in one room? That’s just begging for the apocalypse,” the young woman said, though moments later she wanted to slap herself. Really?! Tossing random important facts out there to impress the guy, facts that nobody is privy to yet at this point in time? _ Some oracle I am. Stop crossing wires! _

“_Wha-? Chaotic magic? _”

“Honestly, don’t listen to me,” she cut in quickly, embarrassed and desperate to cover up her trip-up. “I see more alternate futures and dead-end timelines than I eat sushi; trust me, that’s a lot. I eat double my bodyweight in sushi. So like, ignore me on that one? Scarlet Witch is just a very talented mind reader and telekinesis user.”

“_So I guess when I met you yesterday, you saw some version of my future? _”

Her face went cherry-red at the thought of that vision. How was she going to tell him, let alone explain? Maybe just dodge the question? _ There has to be a way out of this! _

Julie prodded at her sixth sense, asking it urgently whether she’d be able to dodge the metaphorical bullet with Captain America or not. Tiredly, the third eye opened its lid partially. _ Hint at a positive future for himself and Barnes, _ it advised, spitting static between words. _ He’ll leave you alone after that. _ Its lid slipped shut immediately, clearly still needing rest.

She quickly followed its instructions.

“Yes. You and Barnes definitely have a positive outcome if life leads you in that direction. It’ll probably happen. I give it an 80% chance.”

In actuality, the eighty percent was an opposite estimation of how likely it was she’d score the triad future. It was really twenty percent. Was she lying? Quite possibly, but that was the burden to bear when you could see the past-present-future. One couldn’t reveal someone’s possibilities prematurely, or their lives might be doomed as a consequence. Sometimes she really hated the cards she'd been dealt.

“_Well… I guess it’s nice to hear that a modern day oracle thinks me an’ Buck’ll always have each other_,” he mused, a little awkward himself. “_Will I be seeing you at the meeting? _”

“No,” Julie answered. “Unlike you, where your job is more of a waiting game than a consistent flow, I have plenty of work to do. Just last night Pepper wanted me to track thirty different stocks as well as the DOW and S&P. Check up on SI’s various competitors, send emails to the head scientists in charge of the departments on each floor below us, _ and _make sure Thaddeus Ross isn’t about to go rogue and bribe any more politicians to support his stupid Accords we're trying to overturn… Crap, I’m going to need to hotbox my office to keep the strain off my third eye..."

“_Uh, wow. That’s―That’s a lot to do. I should leave you to it,_” said the super soldier. “_Maybe we could get a cup of coffee sometime? Or uh, tea? _” It was delivered so poorly, so abruptly, Captain America proved in that moment to be more useless at casual conversation than Julie.

She was ironically impressed. When not in the comforting presence of Tony or Pepper, she could barely string together a decent sentence without putting her metaphorical foot in her mouth. But the problem was she wasn’t sure how the coffee meet-up was supposed to work. The young woman couldn’t meet his eyes, which was the usual expected social decorum of every interpersonal interaction amongst Homo Sapiens. If she dared to do so, she’d probably be bombarded with a vision again. And in all honesty, Julie wasn’t comfortable enough with the man’s presence yet to deal with any more visions from him. War flashbacks and harrowing missions and _ nearly being beaten to death by your best friend on two different occasions _ weren’t exactly snatches of his life the young woman was overly eager to witness. Same could be said of Bucky Barnes. She needed to ease herself into it… if she even still wanted to go through with making friends and all that eventually followed.

General dislike for socialization and overwhelming self-doubt is nobody’s friend.

“Err, okay?” Julie nearly squeaked. Her acceptance sounded more like a question than a statement.

“_Great! I’ll uh, I’ll be sure to send you the details when I’m free. I’m real sorry I woke you up_.”

“It’s fine. Good luck with all that Avengering stuff. Bye.”

Friday quickly cut the speaker, leaving Julie with blessed silence once again. The young woman stared blankly ahead once again, eyes tracing the lines of the Death Cab for Cutie band poster hanging on the wall. Azog ambled down from the top of his blanket peak, nuzzling his head into her cheek while purring aloud like a broken garbage disposal.

And then she promptly screeched, throwing off her blankets and grabbing her cat. “Jesus fucking Christ! Did I fucking do that? Did I fucking agree to a coffee date? _ What the fuck?! _”

Julie ran around her room in maddening circles, yammering up a storm of anxiety and disbelief at herself. Really, just what was she thinking? Nothing apparently! What chance did she have in getting the attention of a specimen like Captain America? Who the hell knew?! All that muscle and pretty long lashes and cherry lips and―

“Goddamn it! And don’t even _ think _ about Bucky Barnes… Christ!”

Not to say that the Winter Soldier was prettier than America’s Sweet Apple Pie Boy. They were both pretty. Handsome, attractive, whatever complimentary adjective that fit the bill. Just one appeared a lot more pristine and full of sunshine while the other one oozed badass vibes and maybe a history of being trouble. Which, if she remembered her history classes right, was true. Huge flirt, always taking girls dancing. Not to say that the guy was still up for that kind of thing… PTSD and seventy horrible years worth of trauma probably made him a lot more insular. But _ sweet Marilyn Monroe did anybody else see his plushy lips? _He had great hair, gunmetal eyes. God, that vision! It showed her way too much. Or maybe too little. Julie couldn’t make up her mind.

She looked down at the skinny, wrinkled cat in her arms. “Do you think I got a chance, or am I screwed? Give it to me straight, Azog.”

He stared, his ear twitched, and then roughly licked her nose while grumbling.

“Thank you for your confidence, buddy,” Julie deadpanned, patting him on the head.

The die was cast either way.

* * *

Six hours later saw Julie holed up in her home office. It was not surprising or unexpected. The young woman was a workaholic, what else would she be doing? But the space itself was a peculiar place where history, mysticism, memes, and corporate business practice coalesced into a bizarre realm separate from logic.

Half of the furniture was bought at an antique store; most of it was made from oak or mahogany. The roll-top desk where her laptop usually lived was nearly a hundred years old. Knick-knacks were everywhere. Avengers action figures, [Maneki Neko statues](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maneki-neko) with robotic pawing arms, a rainbow of geodes, nail polish bottles, cheesy tourist souvenirs Pepper had a habit of purchasing, kitschy mugs, forgotten USB drives, a legitimate crystal ball, mangled lumps of scrap metal Tony referred to as "his foray into postmodern sculpture," and so much more. There were shelves loaded with all that collectible clutter; side tables and chairs were not exempt. A beautifully-made pine armoire was overflowing with ridiculous costumes that usually invoked feelings of _otherworldly _or _magical_. Vibrant rugs and intricate carpets stained with ash overlapped, making the floor uneven. Slippers were tucked into strange corners or piled under the roll-top desk. Framed cross-stitching hung on one wall, writing out _[God gave me depression because if my ambitions were left unchecked I would have bested God in hand-in-hand combat by age 16](https://66.media.tumblr.com/85ff20420790fa098738ddf019275b64/tumblr_inline_p2s9w34GaV1rptwfp_1280.jpg)_ and _Hewwo? T__hen perish_. Three photos of Tony Stark horrendously drunk were tucked amongst the chaotic stacks of paperwork surrounding Julie's laptop. A very large whiteboard was attached to the back of the office's door. It was drowning in numbers, plots, statistics, and reminders like a vertical-facing white void swallowing an unhealthy multicolored cocktail. Somewhere, a monstrous printer spat out complex spreadsheets between its two companions, Huge File Cabinet One and Huge File Cabinet Two. Glass ornaments and vintage light fixtures hung from the ceiling. Incense holders and incense littered the space. Azog had a blanket secreted away someplace unknown.

In all, it was the perfect microcosm for an introverted packrat with clairvoyance.

And Julie had been working for four out of the six hours since she spoke to Captain America, shut away inside her anarchic home office. Two of those hours not spent working had been happily wasted playing Candy Crush, climbing from level 78 to a slightly more distinguished level 85. She refilled her mug with tea five times, went to the bathroom to empty her overfull bladder seven times, and burnt through two packages worth of frankincense-myrrh incense sticks. Pepper texted continually since noon, and the printer had to have its ink changed twice. The amount of scented smoke and vapor fogging up the room couldn't be easily quantified except by the fact Julie still felt pleasantly buzzed and exceptionally calm. Her third eye was all too content to continue cooperating, working along with her like a well-oiled machine.

So much so, in fact, the oracle wasn't taken by surprise when Tony decided to interrupt her day job. Again. Really, she should stop hoping he'd leave her alone for more than twenty-four hours.

_"Soooooooo! How's Dobby today?"_ Tony greeted, his voice booming out from hidden speakers.

"If you keep interrupting me like this, Tony, I'll never get any work done. Do you know how many different possibilities there are for Thaddeus Ross to fuck the Avengers and Stark Industries over? It's 5,856 unique ways! Like, if there was a good chance of it succeeding without too much backlash, I would totally advise you to send Black Widow out to kill him. Just murk his ass."

"_Well hello to you too_," he said sarcastically. "_And I think Nat would happily do that for free, if Steve could be persuaded to be less than a living saint. Speaking of Steve, a little electronic birdie told me he chatted with you this morning_."

"Tony no," Julie groaned. She was tempted to bash her skull into her laptop's keyboard. And berate Friday for her betrayal.

"_Tony yes_," the genius just about sang.

"Seriously, no. We just talked, and he offered to get me some tea at a later date. Drop the subject."

"_What? Hobgob, that's a date!_"

"No it ain't!" she said a bit too loudly, denying what she had just agreed to do six hours ago.

"_Bullshit. I'm calling bullshit. It was the vision of yours, wasn't it? You saw possibility, and you wanted to hop up on that dick. Dobby, you're working your way to freedom!_"

Julie really hated it when Tony referenced her introversion in terms of dumb Harry Potter references. Sometimes. Most of the time? Maybe not at all. The asshole really drove her up a wall yet gave her a million reasons to keep living.

"You did not just say 'hop up on that dick.' You are a wrinkly old Gen X man who wore the ugliest disco-looking pants in the eighties. Stop while you're ahead."

"_Jules, I'm happy for you! Jokes aside, it's good to know that you're trying to get out there. Pep's constantly worried that you'll drop dead from the crazy work hours you have. Enjoy living a little._"

The young woman made a face, glancing down at a particular photo of Tony sprawled on the tile floor of her kitchen a few years back. He had the gaudiest pair of metallic red boxers on, a bright pink martini balanced on his stomach, and random pieces of his Mark 42 stuck to his body. Nobody really knew it about the infamous man, but he was an unconventionally supportive friend. He acted like a little shit most of the time, but really... he had a heart of gold hidden under that flashy arc reactor. It was especially evident when he decided to drop some random lines like this.

"_But I gotta' know: did he include Barnes in the package deal? Because that'd be hilarious. The awkward triad dating will honestly make my day. No, my month._"

...Yet Tony was still an asshole and that sweet core of him was quickly masked by his sheer unfiltered ridiculousness. Julie still wondered to this day how Pepper put up with him. It was worthy of being an episode topic for Buzzfeed's Unsolved Mysteries or whatever.

"I'm going back to work," she said, grabbing a box of matches and a handful of incense sticks.

"_Ah, c'mon! It's a reasonable question. How about this: you take your lunch break, I buy. We can keep discussing Capsicle and his cyborg bestie_."

"I really need to keep on top of this, Tony. Pep's gotta keep ahead of Ross, and I'm not about to let the Tower fall under his purview like he tried to do at the Facility."

"_Julie, I know you way too well. In the last hour you've probably analyzed all 5,856 possible futures, categorized them by threat level, color-coded every single one by how likely they are to happen, and then selected the best ones. You've most likely written five to ten-page long instruction booklets for each best case scenario to ensure it all works out if everything goes south._"

The oracle blinked owlishly. Then, with a heaving sigh, she slumped.

"Okay, you win this round. But you can't keep taking me out to lunch! I'll never get all the stock analysis done in time for the next quarter if this continues."

"_...You know we have stock brokers and quants for that, right?_"

"Pepper fired most of them when she found out they were cheating the company. Over 500,000 dollars per person for seven years. She blacklisted them out of the industry and euthanized their incomes. The quants couldn't formulate as accurate models as I could. I've low-key been the head of that department since 2015. The remaining employees just double-check my numbers and cautiously follow my investment suggestions."

There was a pause.

"_I love her so much_."

Julie smiled at nothing in particular, fond of Tony's utter affection for her boss. "I know. Now, your place or mi―"

Her phone chose that moment to chime three times, alerting her of a text message. The young woman unlocked it to read the full text.

_ **Cancel the meeting with the head of the Canadian branch and the appointment with Derrick, the Board's trying to undermine me again. Got a tip from one of the interns, strangely enough. Had Friday verify it. Reschedule everything planned for next week. Get in touch with Helen J. and ask her for the best corporate auditor she knows. Our last one got bribed by the Board. Meet me at my office ASAP; I need you to do some digging, preferably in person today. Our time window isn't big enough for back-forth emailing.** _

Julie immediately slammed her laptop closed, unplugged its charger, and checked her outfit. Still in pajamas. Damn.

"Pepper just texted. I have to meet her at floor forty-four; Board's trying to pull some shit. I guess they think that all the Avengers drama from the past few months means the company is vulnerable or some shit, who knows."

"_Fuckers. They should know by now that Pep's no pushover. Raincheck on the lunch then. Go."_

She quickly dashed out of her home office, laptop and charger tucked under her arm. The cord trailed behind her as she just about leapt to her bedroom. Julie needed one of her casual pant suits. The classy grey pinstripe seemed like an excellent idea. A pair of silver heels, with straps. Five inches, none of that kitten heel crap. Tame her hair into a respectable bun. A black Green Day shirt, because mixing T-shirts and suits was a millennial power move. Track down a plain Jansport, shove the laptop and charger inside. Grab the sandalwood incense sticks, a lighter.

"Friday, floor forty-four!" Julie rushed, stumbling into the elevator. It was a very brief ride, because super fast Stark-designed elevators.

"_Floor forty-four, executive and administrative offices_," Friday announced.

The oracle jogged out and down into the maze. She found out Tony designed it to be specifically labyrinthine so it was harder for intruders to locate his girlfriend and any other important offices on the level. Personally, Julie thought he did it just to piss off all the stuck-up executives with more money than sense. Pepper could shoot fire and spit lava. She was perfectly fine. Was his office on this level? Not that it was a big deal. The billionaire was a recluse better suited to toiling in his lab than sit around behind a desk. His ADHD would drive him to insanity before he got any paperwork done. She turned another corner, ponderous. Did any of the heroes have offices on this level? They had fourteen floors! Wouldn't they have enough space for private offices? Then again, how many members were there? _Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Scarlet Witch, Falcon, War Machine, Winter Soldier, Spider-Man, Thor, the Hulk... That's eleven, not counting the Black Panther. That leaves three floors. Take one away for the Common Room, that's two. Tony said something about a gym, so take away another floor. The one remaining floor has to be private offices or something of the like. Then again, it could be Tony's lab... which is on floor 49. Goddamn it, the man totally shoved their offices on this floor!_

Another question loomed: who would have an office? Julie wracked her brain for all of Tony's team roster rants. God, the young woman always blocked those out. She didn't have a ton of information. _Think deductively. Logically, Captain America would have an office. __He's the leader of the whole team, he'd have a lot of shit on his plate, he'd need an office. Done. Tony probably has an office, but I know him too well. He'd do all that work from the comfort of his lab. Hmm... Black Widow? She's been helping Tony and Pepper with the whole Accords mess. But she's a spy. Never mind on that. Uh, maybe Rhodey? He seems like the type to have an office. A big no on Spider-Man. Why the fuck would a kid want or need an office―?_

Without warning, her sixth sense buzzed to life. The eye snapped open. _You're going to crash into someone. Brace yourself._

What?

Julie's face smashed into something very _very _unforgiving. Her nose crunched, the lenses of her glasses cracked. Blood gushed everywhere and pain rocketed through her head. She may have emitted a strangled yelp before jumping back. She clutched at her nose. Whatever she collided with stopped her from losing her balance, steading her at the shoulders.

"Oh Christ, I'm so sorry! Shit, you're bleedin' real good too. Fuck my arm! I can't believe I didn't see you. I'm so sorry," a voice spoke hurriedly, panicked and concerned. It was a nice voice. "Anything else hurt?"

She didn't mean to, but her mind was clouded by the pain of her broken nose. Poor decisions were always made when Julie was dealing with head-related pain. She foolishly looked up and met the stranger's gunmetal eyes through cracked lenses―

―_A small, mildly dilapidated apartment. Faded neutral wallpaper, patterned with a simple Victorian floral design. A wall covered in beautifully-drawn sketches, pin-up art, pictures out of an issue of Life magazine. A cream-peach armchair, a small yellow pillow, books piled under it to replace the missing leg. An easel with no painting. A kitchen connected to the very small bedroom, with a weathered clawfoot bathtub covered by a large piece of plywood serving as the dining table. A blonde man washing the dishes, skinny and short and sickly. The sunlight coming in through the window over the sink turns his hair to gold. Red paint dotting one cheek, a smudge of green-yellow along his chin. The radio is on, playing something jazzy and upbeat. Front door opening. A handsome young man grinning, happily greeting, sweaty, tired. Takes off a hat and hangs it on a crooked nail. A hug that's mixed with soap suds and soft kisses. A joke about oil paint and artists. A lovely little chuckle that quickly turns into a cough. Concern mingling with love. He brushes off the worry. Boiled potatoes and a random vegetable. Closed curtains, music turned up. Two bodies underneath thin blankets, soft caresses, I'm with you till' the end of the line, Buck, I swear to ya, my damn lungs won't fail me yet_―

―And regretted everything. She moaned pitifully at the building pressure behind her eyes, looked away sharply, held her nose more firmly than what was advisable. Definitely going to need a doctor, new glasses, and plenty of ibuprofen.

"Ma'be m' p'ide, pos'ibl my d'gnity. Good t'ing I h've fant'stic he'lth insur'nce," Julie snarked unnecessarily, staring unhappily at the stranger's bloodied shirt.

The voice laughed nervously, sounding all too much like the handsome fellow from her vision. Why had he looked so familiar? Brunette, gunmetal eyes, plushy lips, tall, friends with a blonde man with blue eyes.

She blinked the moment she connected the dots. "Oh f'ck."

"What?"

"Y'u got to b' shitt'n me," Julie swore, reaching out with a hand and poking the man's left arm to confirm her suspicions. It was solid. She tapped with her nails. It sounded like metal.

"What―what're you doing? Are you sure you're okay?" asked the fucking Winter Soldier, who was wearing that bloodied white long sleeve shirt. Possibly collared, but she wasn't about to glance up to check.

She thought about her bloodstained clothes, her blood-encrusted hand, the cracked glasses, the new vision, the pain throbbing behind her eyes, the fact she was undoubtedly late to meet with Pepper. The Winter fucking Soldier accidentally breaking her nose, the awkward date with Captain America slated to happen. Her mug of tea left abandoned in her home office.

"Nope," Julie said simply, before sprinting away. She was already in the elevator and heading up to Tony's lab before the super soldier attempted to chase after her. Tony didn't stop laughing at the convoluted irony until the oracle telekinetically fused him onto the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who don't know much about the stock market and might be confused with what Julie does, I'll give you a quick rundown of the terms I used.
> 
> A _Quant_ is a nickname for _Quantitative Analyst_, who's a person that specializes in the application of mathematical and statistical methods to financial and risk management problems. The occupation is similar to those in industrial mathematics in other industries. So basically, they create algorithms for predicting trends in the stock market, create models for tracking the gains/losses of a specific traded stock (usually for a company), etc. They're usually shown in movies as the fellows in cubicles with seven screens running once with data and graphs.
> 
> A _Stock Broker_ is someone who may provide financial advisory and investment management services and execute transactions such as the purchase or sale of stocks and other investments to financial market participants in return for a commission, markup, or fee, which could be based on a flat rate, percentage of assets, or hourly rate. Some companies (really big ones) have a number of stock brokers who all work together to decide what's a beneficial investment for the company they're working for. Brokers and Quants are usually working in tandem, calling each other, checking with Accounting if they can afford to make these investments, etc.
> 
> _DOW_ is short for the _Dow Jones Industrial Average_. It's a stock market index that indicates the value of 30 large, publicly owned companies based in the United States, and how they have traded in the stock market during various periods. It helps people who operate in the stock market to determine the current climate of the American economy.
> 
> _S&P_ is short for the _S&P 500_. It's a much larger stock market index that measures the stock performance of 500 large companies listed on stock exchanges in the United States. It is one of the most commonly followed equity indices, and many consider it to be one of the best representations of the U.S. stock market. The 30 largest companies that are part of the DOW are also a part of the S&P. It helps people who operate in the stock market determine the long term climate of the American economy; usually seen represented as a graph that shows the growth and loss of the S&P across seven to eight decades.
> 
> Julie is Pepper Potts' personal assistant. Usually that means they do secretary-oriented stuff; run the schedule, manage whatever work Pepper Potts deems she needs managing so that Pepper isn't balancing it all by herself. Julie does that. She manages her schedule, arranges all her flights/meetings, etc. But with her oracle abilities, she's a fantastic tool to use. Julie can track rival companies, accurately predict fluctuations in the market, and generally outmaneuver most obstacles that might fall in Pepper's/Stark Industries' way. Pepper totally utilizes that, though obviously not the the point she's a diabolical mastermind lording over the entire American economy. She's just making sure the profit margin of SI doesn't drop severely when recessions hit. Only problem is with this occupation, Julie can't predict any problems in Pepper's life due to her unpredictable life/her close relationship to Chaos Incarnate Tony Stark. She can only read the individuals and people _around_ Pepper or consult her clairvoyance near-future advice. In summary, Julie can deal with most problems, but not everything. And Pepper is a strong believer in not overworking Julie too much, so that's why Julie didn't expect the Board to try and undermine Pepper. She can't do everything.


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